


so a love is lost, a love is won

by lover_of_blue_roses



Series: Stockings 2019 [11]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, friends that care and protect, nurse starr, pete best never ringo forever, the black eye story, whump georgie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: the classic black eye with some good starrison(bye bye pete best, here's ringo whom we love and will literally fight to defend)
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, implied one sided paul mccartney/george harrison, preslash - Relationship
Series: Stockings 2019 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576186
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	so a love is lost, a love is won

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Immovable_McLennon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immovable_McLennon/gifts).



> Stocking story for 'Taron eats WHOLE pineapple'

Paul couldn't believe it. He felt the rage twisting his features and as much as he tried to stay impassive he could feel his right eye twitch with barely contained fury. What fuckin' bullshit. Not famous enough to be getting any kind of good money or have people with standards judge their music, no instead it was very much the unwashed masses and their stupid opinions. If Paul was this pissed about it, it was likely that John was moments away from starting a brawl. 

It was simple, Pete Best wasn't a very good drummer, so they had replaced him with someone more talented, someone better and what did they have to say? Chants of 'Ringo Never, Pete Best Forever' so loud that they were starting to drown out their jamming. As soon as that magazine had printed about Epstein's decision, it had been this stupid madness. Hell, they'd even held vigil at his home with that 'clever' chant. 

At least Paul and George were of one mind on this matter, being the most talented instrumentalists of the band, that Ringo was a far superior player. But maybe John's rumblings about not alienating what few but passionate fans they had managed to get was right. That didn't mean it wasn't infuriating.

If they'd stop and shut their fuckin' mouths for a moment they might actually be able to hear and listen to that sweet steady pounding. It was bad enough they had to hear this bullshit jeered at them while minding their own business walking down the street, but to hear it on stage where Ringo's talents could be heard? Load of horseshit. Especially considering that many of them were girls who seemed more concerned with Ringo's brutish mug replacing Pete's more conventional good looks. 

Paul attempts at being charming, despite his resentment, didn't work and in fact their heckling seemed to escalate to such a point that he was sure they'd have a fight as soon as they got off stage if not before. 

John and Paul liked to share a microphone anyways because it meant they could hear each other better, sound not traveling the same through air as it did through the speakers. With Paul's left strung bass they could in fact get real close to each other, which they did, watching carefully for anyone that would charge the stage. 

While they were both capable of dealing with any such scrapes, it was always nice to have someone in your corner. And after being such close friends for nearing half a decade, which was getting to a quarter of their lives at this point, they knew they'd always be there for each other. 

Which is why they didn't notice at first when some guy came charging in from backstage. He was shouting such abuse but they couldn't even hear it over the sound of the crowd and their own music. What they did notice was the jarged note from their ever talented youngest member. 

They turned to face George trying to kick away some loon, getting him in the shins, yelling right back, defending Ringo. The guy would not be stopped and grabbed at George's precious guitar which was enough to let him get a headbutt in while Hazza was distracted trying to protect his baby. George took it right in the clock, staggering back in pain before coming back up with a mean right hook that downed the overzealous pillock. 

At that point Cavern security stepped in and they were shuttled back into the closet-sized room that served as drezzy. George had been mad hit and it looked like he'd have a real shiner before the night was through. "We have to go to Eppy with this," John argued. 

Ringo was chewing his nails at the same time he was sucking the life out a cigarette. 'This is it,' he thought to himself. Here he'd thought he finally found something good, had accepted Lennon's invitation to the band, and now that they realised what a lousy fit he was were gonna throw him out. 

"Right, right, that's probably best," George argued and Paul hovered around like a clucking hen just in case he should sway or fall as though Paul's ten stones wouldn't be crushed under him. 

The Cavern's staff gets them out of the building without further incident and as to not wait around on the street corner to get into more trouble, they take a cab straight to their new manager's office. 

There they are greeted by a large man outside of Epstein's office, hovering around his secretary that looks a little frazzled at the edges. The stranger wearing a fedora and a double-breasted suit and upon seeing them opens the door without question where they see an even more frazzled looked Epstein. The man that is normally so meticulous about his appearance appears to have run his hand through his hair and mismatched his shirt buttons, truly by his standards signs of the end times. 

"Is- is everything okay?" George asks while he stands there literally injured. 

Eppy, as John has affectionately dubbed him, doesn’t even bother looking up from his desk. "They- I found my car tyres had been knifed this morning, I- I run a business and such a personal attack- I reported it to the police but until things quiet down I've hired Max," He gestures to the tall man.

"Maximus Graham," he says shaking their hands politely and yet his intimidating demure does not soften by this act.

"He's to be my temporary bodyguard." They can't tell if he's actually concerned for his safety or just his precious car, hard to tell with him. 

"Don't imagine we could have one of those," John quips as he raps his knuckles on the paperwork and Eppy finally looks up concerned. John jerks his head to wear Hazza is nursing one serious bruise. 

"I-Oh!" Eppy stand jumping to attention. A grave serious look overcame him, "I'll have to take care of this then." He looks meaningfully at one of his carefully towering stacks of paperwork. It's clear his mind is already a million miles away as though they don't even exist anymore. He remembers them enough to say, "There's a first aid kit in the lobby, one of you will need to fetch it, there should be ice in the staff room, next to the bar." 

"When you say take care of this, you mean with the fans right? We want Ringo," George says mulishly. Hasn't Eppy made enough decisions for the band? And this one might be the only one they actually like.

Epstein looks at them carefully and their determined faces. Even John, who rather loved Pete as a mate, was aware that they were only settling with him and that Ringo was what they really wanted and needed if they were to make it anywhere. 

Their manager nods slowly and they can know that they've won at least for now and all that's left is to lick their wounds. They make their way to the staff room while Paul pops off to retrieve the first aid kit. The problem they realises as soon as they are there, is that there are only large square ice cubes. Which are both far to large and cold to be applied in any really helpful way. 

"Isn't there a grocers down the block?" Ringo asks as he looks at the racks of ice cubes.

"That one with the barmy name?" George faintly remembers Paul and John giggling about it.

"Yeah," John says smiling as he remembers the jokes, "Gentiles."

Ringo blinks, alright that's is a distinctive name. "Reckon they got any frozen peas? Personally it me favor texture and just the right amount of cold for a blackened eye." 

"Maybe, can't imagine how large their frozen section is but it's worth a shot and if I don't find anything there, I can take the bus further to the Brown's Market," John offers generously. 

"Yeah thanks, that'd be really grand," Hazza says which is really the closest he'll allow himself to say 'this fucking hurts so much, please just anything for the pain.' He's been so good not to cry this hole time. "Might as well go with Macca, I don't need three babysitters," which might in fact mean the pain is so bad he'd like to cry and as he ain’t a bird he can only do that in private.

"Sure, sure, be back as soon as we can and if we see any such fans we'll be sure to give them a piece of your mind," John bobs his head as he checks his jacket for his cigarette, lighter, and wallet, in that order. 

"My mind? Did you see Paul? He looked like he was gonna spit flames," George adds as he finally finds some paracetamol tablets. 

John chuckles, closing the door on the way out, leaving the intended victim with his victim. "I'm very sorry," is indeed the very first thing out of Ringo's mouth, "I never meant for any of this to happen." 

"Ain't got nothing to be sorry for, course you aren't responsible for that wanker."

"I!" Ringo shouted, jumping out to grab George's hands in his; surprising the guitarist. George had pushed out three tablets without any other thought than the terrible headache swelling along side his eye. "Please, please," Ringo seemed so freaked out, lowering his head onto his arms. "The nurses were always telling me how, despite being an over the counter, this is some serious real shit. Taking too much causes like permanent harm. People would fry their livers either by taking too much or drinking with it."

"I-I'm sorry I hadn't thought," George answered honestly lowering the pill sheet.

Ringo didn't completely let go of his hands, replacing one of tablets under the aluminum and scooping up the last two. "It's okay, I didn't mean to overreact, the nurses were just always on about it. I just- I'm already the reason this has happened to you," He raised his head to look into Hazza's eyes. 

They had come much closer when Ringo lurched for the medicine and now he could see that George's eyes were really the darkest of browns, not a trace of hazel to be seen. It was as though they were swallowing the light and him in with them. 

"I-I haven't even said thank you, you know, for defending me. Both um," he gestured to the eye, "But also against what he said. I couldn't catch everything you said but uh, that was real good on you," Ringo added blushing lightly.

George could do nothing but blush as well at the gruff looking man being so sweet, "Yeah, I mean course. You're our drummer, we chose you," 'I chose you,' he doesn't say true as it might be, "and I would defend you again." He looked at Ringo intently with those eyes of his. The boys still saw him as that baby faced boy but Ringo who had only known him after Hamburg and saw a gorgeous man. George licked his lips, "As I hope you might defend me."

"Absolutely." He answered without hesitation before flushing and breaking eye contact, "Not just because you're a killer guitarist but you're really great, you know, nice guy."

"Well, I do certainly hope I manage to be nicer than John," George teased as he slowly stood up. Yet rather than the logical following of separating their hands, George burrowed one further between his ringed ones while the other sought out a cup. 

Once the two tablets had been downed with nothing stronger than what's on the tap, he led them over to an armchair that was really only meant for one but being such skin and bones they were able to squeeze in tightly together. 

From this close George can smell the exertion of drumming under stage lights under Ringo's cheap aftershave. Ringo is carefully when settling down as not to accidentally brush up against George's face, "Is that the only place you're hurt?" 

"Yeah, but on my face and all, when my mam sees it, she'll be right pissed."

"I'm not your mother and I'm right pissed about it, what fuckin' bullshit," he states as they place their hands on their lands and due to the tight quarters they are touching, but it could just almost be a coincidence.

"That should be my line, like we aren't allowed to do whatever the fuck we want. If John wants to pick you, then that's his goddamn decision. How dare they think they know better? Did you see Paul? He's always savvy and charming, really MR. PR but he looked ready to give it to them."

"I-Yeah," In truth Ringo had noticed Paul's rage and thought his anger about the situation included Ringo. He doesn't know if he doesn't still think that. The reassurance from George is nice and all but maybe they really are too much of a bother and they'll just get Pete back. "Well- I mean, I don't, I know you all don't think I fit in that well and so if you wanted to- the easiest way to avoid this is just to- I'd understand."

George was practically holding him down at this proclamation looking at him with those dark dark eyes of his. "Great," John said from behind as he kicked the door open, "Because Martin thinks we'll be starting the first week of September so it's wonderful to hear you're so understanding that you'll need to be there and kick so much fuckin' ass to really make those wank stains choke on their stupid chant." 

"I know it can be difficult to feel like you fit in because you're the newest member but we wouldn't be leading you on mate. If we didn't want you we'd just tell you."

"Not worth getting my beautiful teeth kicked in," John quipped as Paul half-sat on the armrest gently lower the bag of peas onto George's eye. He hissed at the cold before moaning and melting back into Ringo. 

Ringo felt terrible and uncertain as always pinned under the guitarist. Paul said this but then he only ever seemed to have eyes for George. If Ringo didn't know any better he'd say Paul had feelings for George, the very same kind of feelings that Ringo himself was denying. And of course, as wonderful and beautiful as Ringo thought George was, Paul had known Hazza better just by knowing him for so long.

"So how's the eye? Gonna lose it? What does Nurse Starr say?"

"Nurse? We are being deprived of a very cute hat," Paul teased.

"Not uniform compliant at all," John said with a sad shake as he settled across from them on the coffee table. 

“If you be thinking you wanna see me in stockings, best be thinking again,” bite out the gruff looking man. 

George just rolls an eye at their foolishness. "It's gonna be a real shiner, no hiding it from me mum but I'm hoping just not to be seeing her till it's gone."

"Good luck with that," John sighed thinking about the Mama Harrison who was as ferocious as a pitbull. 

"Till then guess it'll be my badge of honor. My sign of 'Pete Never, Ringo Forever.'"

"Christ though, you're gonna be meeting with Martin like though," Ringo said thinking about the serious far more classical music producer. "It’s bad enough he sees us as such a terrible little skiffle band stocked with idiots, what’s he gonna think when he saw that we'd been brawling?"

"That we defend our own," John griped. 

George and Ringo looked at each the best they could without bumping heads, confined in the armchair. Sounded about right to them. This was only the beginning and it was most certainly not the end, George would always do his best to be there for him. And best of all, so would Ringo.

**Author's Note:**

> So I just like found this story on wiki and other sources and so like 100% is from there, the shipping is just me  
> also gentiles is a real name of a real grocery story and honestly i think it's really odd and quite funny


End file.
